Page 24 of R Is For Revenge: Part One
I turn back to Jules. She’s standing like someone bracing for a second blow that hasn’t come. Her hands are clenched at her sides, but she’s keeping her expression neutral. Barely.
“Stay,” I say quietly. “The rest of you can go.”
Huxley and Cade exchange a glance, but neither questions me. Abel tips his chin toward Jules as he passes, a silent acknowledgment.
Then it’s just the two of us.
CHAPTER 8
JULES
My skin still burns where Braedon touched me. Not because he hurt me, not physically, but because it felt like I wasn’t even a person for those few seconds—just something he could grab. A thing he could toy with because he was rich, drunk, and used to getting whatever the hell he wanted.
I’ve known men like him my whole life, but it’s harder to deal when you’re not on the same footing. I’m not Jules Harper. I’m just a girl who doesn’t matter.
I’m still standing near the bar, trying to remember how to breathe like a normal person, when the last of them leave. The quiet thud of the suite door closing behind Huxley might as well be a lock slamming shut.
Now it’s just Beck and me.
He’s still by the poker table, glass in hand, eyes fixed on me in a way that makes my pulse trip. Controlled. Watchful. Not angry, not exactly. But something colder. Sharper. The man is more complex than anyone I’ve ever met and I barely know him. Which means I’m running blind. I don’t know how to react or behave. And that’s a problem because I can’t fuck this up. I can’t lose this job.
“Your friend Braedon. I hope he gets home okay.” I shift on my feet and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear to keep my hands from shaking. “He seemed kind of messy.”
Beck doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak.
“I mean… I hope he doesn’t think that I’m...” My voice is too soft, and I hate the way it sounds—small. Defensive. Like I did something wrong. “That I was rude or anything. I just…didn’t like him touching me like that.”
He still watches me in silence and like an idiot I word vomit all over the place. “I was just surprised is all and didn’t want to make things worse, but I… I’m sorry if I…well, if I…” What the fuck am I trying to say? His buddy is a dick. I shouldn’t be apologizing to anyone.
You will if it means keeping this job.
“Is that what you think would’ve happened?” he asks finally, voice low. “That it would’ve been worse if you said something?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, lifting my chin slightly. “I’ve worked enough jobs to know that sometimes when you speak up, you get punished for it. Been in enough situations to know that when something goes sideways it’s my fault. Even if it isn’t. I’m a hard worker and I’ll do whatever you need, except, well, not that. I don’t think a man has the right to just touch a woman without her consent.”
His jaw ticks once.
He sets his glass down and walks toward me, slow and deliberate. I don’t back away, but every part of me goes rigid the closer he gets. Not because I think he’ll touch me—but because I have no idea what’s coming.
When he stops in front of me, he speaks directly, his eyes intense, hiding shadows that make me wonder. “Braedon won’t touch you again.”
I search his expression, trying to read the man behind the words. Thing is, I think he means it. I don’t know why I’msurprised, but I am. I expected him to maybe apologize for his friend’s behavior. Blame it on the booze and then forget about it. And me.
“Thank you.” I manage the words. Maybe my boss isn’t so bad after all.
His eyes narrow slightly. “You work for me. And I don’t let anyone lay their hands on what’s mine.”
And there it is. The arrogance. The conviction that he owns everything in his little kingdom.
He raises an eyebrow and that shouldn’t send a chill down my spine, but it does. Not in a romantic way. Not even in a protective one.
In a way that makes it clear: he owns this place. The building. The suite. The people inside it. And right now, that includes me. I’m nothing more than a cog in a wheel and he wants to make sure the wheel keeps spinning.
I swallow hard as a new thought enters my brain. “Am I in trouble? Should I have handled things differently?”
“No,” he says, and for a second that surprises me. “You did your job.” He pauses. “But next time—don’t. You don’t have to take shit like that from anyone. Not here. Not from him. Not from any of the club members. Anyone gives you trouble talk to Brent right away. Or come to me if I’m around.”
I don’t know what to say to that. So I nod. It’s all I can manage.
